Dating Sex

At the time I met June, I had already known - in every sense - Annie for more than two years. I, like she in those pre-AIDS days, had other lovers. Annie knew about June, and June knew about Annie. Annie was a lot more at ease with the idea of June than vice-versa. When I said June and I fucked about every eight hours on the average, I meant "average." Annie and I spent two nights a week together, usually. Annie, like June, was a couple of years younger than me. We'd met when I was working a part-time job selling coffees and teas, during a publishing drought. What first got my attention was, oddly enough, her mind. I had a game I sometimes played with customers. Since the various coffees we sold had different per-pound prices, blends called for some arithmetic. After all, a couple of ounces of Kenya Double-A at $4 per pound and a quarter pound of French Roast Columbian at $3.65 a pound and two ounces of Yemen Mocha at $5.10 a pound, etc., gets one into the realm of challenging numbers. I made a gam of it.

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